


2 sugar cubes, no cream

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Slow Build, Sugar Daddy Bruce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6491623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you even respond to this? How was Matt supposed to respond to this? Because unless he was still dead asleep and this was all a dream, some stranger he met at a bar was offering to help him out financially, for no real reason other than because? Why? Matt told him his woes? There were a lot of poor, struggling college kids out there why him? And what exactly would this arrangement even mean, him just paying for Matt’s tuition and bills? Buying him food and other things he needed? Unless…</p><p>“Fuck.” He almost dropped his phone at the revelation, typing out a quick text that he regretted the moment he hit send.</p><p>>> Matt: Are you offering to be my sugar daddy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. nothing good ever happens after 2am

**Author's Note:**

> [[Song for the Chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOlcDBXKhSU)]

Matt remembered, several times over really, how often Adam very cheerfully reminded him in that voice that never sounded as cheerful as his faux joy tried to illustrate, that nothing good has ever happened to anyone past two o’clock in the morning. It was usually as Matt was leaving at night, jacket thrown on to protect him from the cold outside, and Adam was lounging on their apartment’s couch with his phone in hand, texting Lawrence, or Joel, or whoever else he talked to. It was a reminder that came again that late Saturday night, when Matt was shrugging on a hoodie before he headed out to a bar to be the lonely college kid drinking his beer on his own. Like most nights, it fell on deaf ears, because Matt wasn’t a reckless drunk, not like Lawrence. He could hold his alcohol, and he knew when to limit himself so he stayed more or less aware of what was happening. Matt wasn’t reckless, but… well, sometimes mistakes just kind of happened.

The worst part was that Matt could only vaguely remember spilling his life story and all his problems to a pretty eyed stranger at the bar. Okay, so he had one too many beers, he guessed, and he was a little more drunk than usual. But dropping out of college would do that to you, honestly, and Matt wasn’t up to thinking over his problems that night. He had finished off a few bottles on his own at the end of the bar, when the seat next to him was filled and someone was buying him another. And Matt, well… he was an affectionate person when he wanted to be, and with the buzz of alcohol in his brain, affection was top priority, and so was attention. So he started blabbering about anything he could think of; about shit he did as a kid, about Adam and Joel and Spoole, about how he left his parents house at eighteen and didn't want to go crawling back. And somehow, that escalated into him telling this stranger  about his financial problems, about the job he was fired from, about school he couldn't afford so he dropped out, about how Adam took on the bills and rent for their apartment while Matt tried to get his shit together quickly, even though it was barely working. Matt wanted to believe the shimmer in the guy's eyes was concern, intrigue, something akin to sympathy, or maybe even empathy. He really did.

He could actually recall this man helping him to his taxi after all was said and done by morning, when he was stumbling out of his room with a pounding headache, a need for water, and a desperate want for a shower. At least he had given him that kindness, and wasn’t a total creep. Matt could count his lucky stars in that regard, because he could only imagine the sort of trouble he  _ could _ have gotten into with a stranger while he was drunk. All sorts of manner of bad situations could come from that, and he wasn’t keen on thinking about how close he had dodged that bullet.

His phone had buzzed while he was working the cap of the Advil bottle off, noise loud and grating in his ears, making him wince as he picked it up off the counter. The number was unfamiliar, but the first few words had his head spinning worse than it already was. He downed the painkillers with some water and sulked back to his room, eyes squinting at the brightness of the screen. Adam passed him in the hallway, patting him on the shoulder before he slipped back into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

_ > **Unknown** : Hey, Matthew? I'm Bruce Greene. The guy you drunkenly confessed your problems to last night. You slipped me your number before I got you into your taxi. I'm not sure why but. Well I have a kind of weird proposition for you. _

Matt laid back down in bed, staring blankly at the text, at the words, reading them over again and again. Typical drunken Matt, to be giving his number to the stranger he spilled his guts to at the bar. He wasn't sure what to say back, though. Because he didn't really know this dude, this Bruce, and it wasn’t like Matt could get a good read on his personality through that text alone, anyway. The prospect of replying seemed more like a hassle than anything else, really, but he could also hear Lawrence in his ears cheerily telling him to just “bite the bullet”, so he threw all caution to the wind, saved Bruce’s number, and replied.

_> > **Matt** : Oh, hey, yeah. You can just call me Matt, though. And I’m really sorry about that, honestly. I rarely get that drunk, but I guess you already have an idea of how it’s been kinda rough for me. But, sure, just send me what it is?_

He set his phone down, biting at a hangnail one one of his fingers, watching the screen intently. What did he mean by proposition, anyway? What did this Bruce guy even expect to be able to get out of a poor, struggling college dropout? And what was Matt expecting to get out of this? There was probably nothing he could gain from texting this guy back, either. He was a stranger he cried on the shoulder of at the bar when he was drunk, even though the name  _ Bruce Greene _ was ringing familiar in his brain, what could possibly come from th-

_ > **Bruce Greene** : Well, you sound like you really need the money, is all. I was wondering if you’d let me help you out. _

_ >> **Matt** : What. _

_ > **Bruce Greene** : I mean. Only if you want me to. I’m not going to make you accept the offer. I thought I’d put it out there. _

Well. That was the last thing he was expecting.

How do you even respond to this? How was  _ Matt _ supposed to respond to  _ this _ ? Because unless he was still dead asleep and this was all a dream, some stranger he met at a bar was offering to help him out financially, for no real reason other than because? Why? Matt told him his woes? There were a lot of poor, struggling college kids out there why him? And what exactly would this arrangement even mean, him just paying for Matt’s tuition and bills? Buying him food and other things he needed? Unless… 

“Fuck.” He almost dropped his phone at the revelation, typing out a quick text that he regretted the moment he hit send.

_ >> **Matt** : Are you offering to be my sugar daddy? _

_ > **Bruce Greene** : Well. Yeah. Maybe. _

_ >> **Matt** : Holy shit. _

Scratch what he thought before; how the fuck do you respond to  _ this _ ? Matt was so thrown off, thumbs paused over the keyboard on his phone, staring blankly at it.  _ His sugar daddy? _ This guy was  _ honestly _ suggesting this? Whenever he thought of something like that, he only ever imagined creepy old men and young pretty girls, and all the nasty things that had to be going on behind closed doors. But Bruce wasn’t a creepy old man, or didn’t seem like it, and Matt wasn’t a young pretty girl, and unless Bruce was beating around the bush about what he really wanted here, Matt didn’t think he was about to get himself in a situation where he was giving sex in return for nice things and money. He had to keep reminding himself that he  _ really _ didn’t even know this guy, though.  _ ‘Err on the side of caution, Matthew.’ _

_ >> **Matt** : Okay, sorry. Wow. That’s just… Okay. _

_ > **Bruce Greene** : I know. It’s kind of straightforward. I know you barely know me, too. Why don’t we get together for coffee sometime, and talk it over. If you want? _

_ >> **Matt** : Yeah, sure. That sounds good. Wednesday morning? _

_ > **Bruce Greene** : Sure. I’ll send you the address of this place I really like. See you then. _   
  
Matt stared blankly as Bruce sent him the address for the coffee shop, thanking God it was pretty close, before he locked his phone and stared up at his ceiling. What did he just do?

 

* * *

 

That night, after spending a day out running errands with Adam and having the entire situation boil under his blood silently, Matt settled back down into bed, freshly showered and absently picking at some leftover take-out. His head felt clearer that it had in the morning as he grabbed his laptop, opening it up and starting the nightly ritual of checking all of his social media, mainly just to see what friends, family, and acquaintances had been up to. He still couldn’t shake how familiar the name Bruce Greene was, though, and it made him wonder if he had gotten his name at the bar, and in his drunken stupor, forgotten it. Maybe a quick Google search would help. Maybe he was some kind of serial killer, or someone Matt needed to watch out for. He typed into the search bar quickly, not really expecting to get anything and ready to go to Facebook instead, only for the search results to come back up.

Okay. What the fuck.

_ “Bruce Greene, born August 12, 1981, is the co-founder and Chief Operating Officer of his company, Cabra, which deals in women’s and men’s high couture, luxury goods and accessories. Greene founded the company alongside longtime friends James and Elyse Willems in 2008. He currently handles most of the financials of the company.” _

Bruce Greene was  _ that Bruce Greene _ _. _

Oh God, what did he get himself  _ into _ ?

Matt hastily clicked on the images tab, waiting and letting the page load up. Maybe it wasn’t the right Bruce Greene. Maybe this was a different Bruce Greene, and the Bruce he met while drunk, with the pretty brown eyes and the heart warming smile just happened to have the same name. Coincidences have been weirder, right? Except the moment the images loaded, Matt’s heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach, where he was sure it’d make it’s new home. 

The Bruce Greene he met at the bar, who he clumsily told his life story to, practically cried on his shoulder, and drunkenly gave him his number, who he had a _coffee date_ with on Wednesday and was _basically_ offering to be Matt’s goddamn sugar daddy, was _the_ Bruce Greene, who owned a fucking _company_. He was _thirty-four_. And Joel never shut up about Cabra, no wonder Bruce’s name sounded so familiar. Because Bruce Greene was a thirty-four year old businessman who owned a multi-million dollar company. And Matt… oh God. He was going to fall into some deep shit territory because he was about to be some kind of involved with a man thirteen years his senior, all because Drunk Matt couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut.

He let his head fall into his hands, letting out a loud groan and falling backward onto his bed. Maybe he should have listened to Adam last night.

Honestly, nothing good ever happens after two AM.


	2. get up and give me a try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Song For This Chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8GRiiaef3s&ab_channel=TheWombats)]

After what Matt considered a disastrous Saturday night/early Sunday morning, coupled with that _stunning_ revelation that same evening, the state of his emotions could only be described as a _trainwreck_. Part of him had been so intent on keeping it secret, that when Monday morning rolled around, and Adam was asking about his plans for the week, Matt had completely forgotten about the coffee date with Bruce until he got to Wednesday and what he was saying came to a screeching halt. He _knew_ nothing good could come from mouthing off about this, about how an older, rich businessman was offering to support him financially, so keeping it to himself was a better option. God only knew what the press would do with a story like this, even if Bruce was, according to multiple news outlets, gossip websites, and his Wikipedia page, outspoken about his bisexuality to a point of it not even being a shock factor anymore. He could respect him for that, but Matt had a feeling that him being a male wouldn’t be what the paparazzi would latch onto.

The other part of him, though, knew he had to tell _someone_. What kind of good would it do him to keep something like this all bottled up if something bad were to happen to him? Spoole and Lawrence were nearly obsessed with those crime shows, and more than once Lawrence had cheerily told him all the little details about how someone could get away with murder that he really didn’t need to know. He really didn’t want to wind up a story on the news for Adam to see after he never came home. But telling someone came with the problem of, you know, _actually telling someone_. How do you word something like that? Would you just come out and say it? And what if they took it bad? Matt had never had to deal with anything like this, and at the idea of telling Adam that, hey, he was going to go meet a thirty-four year old businessman for coffee and possibly have him become his sugar daddy, left all the wrong feelings in his stomach. And, anyway, why did he agree to a coffee date? Matt didn’t even like coffee. It was almost like he was subconsciously working himself up to be the most cliche college dropout that ever lived outside of whatever Hollywood could pump out.

God, _what in the fresh hell_ had he gotten himself into.

Tuesday afternoon was his and Joel’s monthly “coffee date” at the cafe on the campus, mostly to get all caught up in each others lives, since Joel was busy with work and school, and Matt was doing whatever it was he was doing. He debated telling him, between Joel’s sips of his coffee and chatter about class, but eventually just settled on taking tentative gulps of his tea. Joel had always been the one he came to with problems like this, with relationships and dating, had even been the first one he told he was bi back in highschool, but now it felt like a lump in his throat, trying to tell him. Maybe he should approach this smoothly, ask and get an estimate on how he’d take the news by gauging his reactions from that. He shifted in his seat, before settling on a statement and blurting out. “You’ve heard of Bruce Greene, right?”

Joel gave him a look crossed between offended and confused, before setting his coffee cup down. “Um, yeah, I have, why?”

“I, uh…” he stuttered, before clearing his throat gently. That wasn’t smooth at all. “I just stumbled upon a news article, is all. I thought I've heard you talking about him before,” he lied, drinking his tea to avoid Joel's eyes.

“Okay…” Joel’s tone was full of skepticism. “But, yeah, I have heard of him. He helped found Cabra,” he said. “He handles the financials in the company. He’s pretty outspoken about his sexuality, too. Gotta respect someone who isn’t scared to be himself.”

“Yeah, I read something about that,” Matt mumbled, pushing the crumbled up straw wrapper around on the table. “He seems pretty great.”

Joel took a sip of his coffee and hummed. “He is pretty great,” he said. “What news article were you reading? I’m kinda curious now.”

Matt froze. Fuck. He didn’t plan this far ahead. “Uh. I’ll have to find it again later and send it to you. I don’t really remember, honestly,” he told him, then feigned a quick glance at the clock on his phone. “And I should probably get going. Adam needs me at home for some stuff.”

“Oh, alright,” he said, starting to clean up the table. Matt stood, tossing his things out and grabbing his backpack. He pushed the door open and started to head toward home, before he was stopped by Joel’s hand on his arm. “Hey. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry about the whole school thing,” he told him. Matt felt his shoulders fall with whatever tense uncertainty he held a moment ago. “It was a decision you shouldn’t have had to make. But, if you need anything, don’t be scared to ask, okay?”

He nodded, offering Joel a smile that he returned. “Yeah, of course. Thanks Joel.”

They went their separate ways, and the entire walk home, Matt wondered if he should have told Joel then.

* * *

 

_> **Joel** : Hey, everything’s okay, right? You just seemed kinda off earlier._

_> > **Matt** : Oh, did I? Sorry. But I’m okay, Joel._

_> **Joel** : Alright. Just know I’m here in your corner, Matt. You need anything I’m just a text away!_

_> > **Matt** : [unsent] I’M PROBABLY GOING TO START SEEING BRUCE GREENE BECAUSE I DRUNKENLY CONFESSED MY PROBLEMS TO HIM AT THE BAR SATURDAY NIGHT HOW DO I EVEN GET MYSELF INTO THIS SITUATION._

_> > **Matt** : Of course. Thanks buddy._

* * *

 

The coffee shop wasn't as far from his apartment as he thought it would be, but it was still a fairly long walk, and Matt felt like he had spent most of his time alternating between worrying his bottom lip and chewing on his nails. He was feeling even more anxious about the situation now than he had over the past few days, stomach churning painfully every time he thought about _Bruce_ , and _Bruce being his fucking sugar daddy_. Before he even left, he had triple checked the time Bruce had texted him right as he was falling asleep the night before (“ _9:30 good for you?_ ” he had asked, and Matt felt maybe he was a bit too quick on the reply). Matt wondered vaguely while crossing the street, if he'd look back on this in twenty years and decide if it was the best or worst thing he had ever done. Right now he was leaning on the latter (maybe part of him hoped for the former).

The place Bruce had sent him too wasn’t too bad. It was a bit nicer than the one him and Joel frequented, but not so nice Matt felt too intimidated to walk into. There were a few people already sitting around, drinking their orders and typing on laptops Matt could only dream of affording, and he slipped into a round table next to the window after getting a good once over of the prices on the menu. He set down his backpack as he sat down, nervously bouncing his leg and watching the people walk past outside of the window. Should he text him, maybe? He checked his watch, worrying his lip between his teeth. It was only 9:32. A couple of minutes didn’t mean he was getting stood up.

Whoa, okay, why did he default to that anyway? Stood up, like this was a _proper_ date? Like, what, Bruce would go back to his fancy rich people dinners and laugh about how he _totally_ punked a poor, two-steps-from-homeless twenty-one year old? Yeah, sure, that was so absurd, Matt could almost see it happen, and God, that didn’t help how nervous he was at all. What would he even do in that situation? Text Bruce? Tell Adam? Sweep it under the rug and resort to moving out of the apartment to live in a box on the street and-

“Matt?”

He almost jumped, gripping the hoodie strings he had been playing with and looking up at the source of the voice. Bruce. It was Bruce, with those pretty eyes that Matt shamefully hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. And he had never gotten a good look at him in the darkness of the bar, combined with how fucking drunk he was, and Matt only had one thought as his mouth fell open.

_Holy fuck, Bruce was even hotter in person._

Matt tripped over his words, before stuttering out an awkward and quiet, “Hi”, his face heating up. Oh God, this was going to be the worst moment of his life.

Bruce smiled, slipping off the suit jacket he wore and hanging it on the back of the chair across from Matt, before sitting down. “Nice to meet you now that you’re sober,” he said. “Can I get you anything? I know the prices are kind of intimidating.”

“Yeah, I mean, yes. Tea. I don't like coffee,” Matt said quickly.

“Oh, you don't?” Bruce asked, rolling up his dress shirt’s sleeves, and holy God in heaven, he was _ripped_. “I should have said somewhere else, then. Sorry.”

Matt shook his head, trying to will away the red heat on his cheeks. “No, it's fine. It's fine. Most, uh… Coffee places have tea. So… no problem,” he told him quietly.

Bruce smiled gently. “Alright. I’ll get you a tea,” he said, getting up and going over to the counter. Matt followed him with his eyes, watching the way Bruce’s shirt hugged his arms, feeling a jolt go straight to the bottom of his gut at the _very inappropriate_ thoughts coming to his head. _‘Holy shit, Matthew.’_  He didn’t even remember the last time he had thoughts like that, especially since he had been so busy with work and school, and had barely paid attention to his co-workers and classmates. But, holy _fuck_ , Bruce was _not_ anything like his peers, and Matt was honestly going to have some problems with this situation if Bruce wore shirts like that more often than not.

Matt snapped himself out of his thoughts as Bruce came back over, a smile on his face. “Sorry, I forgot to ask. Do you get anything in your tea?”

“Oh,” Matt mumbled quietly. _Shit_ he was considerate, too? “Uh. Two sugars. No milk or anything.”

Bruce nodded, and was off again, relaying the information to the person behind the counter, before getting their orders and coming back to Matt, handing him his cup. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He took the cup from him and had a sip. “So, um… How do we talk this out?”

“Oh, well, first off, is it comfortable for you?” Bruce asked, looking at him. “The whole… giving you money situation.”

Was he comfortable with it? He had been asking himself that since the text exchange Sunday, and still wasn’t sure. Part of him wanted to be independent, to be able to put himself through school and support himself without anyone’s help. It was part of the reason why running back to his parents with his tail tucked between his legs wasn’t an option for him, wasn’t something he wanted to resort to. But, he _really_ needed the money. He didn’t want to just leave college as one of those things he never saw to the end, and he didn’t want to keep relying on Adam to pick up bills and groceries, no matter how many times he was assured it was okay. Bruce was offering him an easy way to fix these two problems in his life, so why was he so hesitant?

Right, he didn’t know Bruce’s ulterior motive with this mess.

Matt nervously sipped at his tea. “I… I’m alright with it,” he said quietly. “It’s fine.”

Bruce hummed. “Are you sure?”

“Why… Why are you offering me this?” he asked, his nerves getting the best of his mouth, finally. “And not anyone else? I don’t really have anything to offer you in return… And what do you even want in return? I mean… Is it s-”

“No!” Bruce said quickly, almost like he was anticipating the next word that Matt was about to say. Matt wondered if he had anticipated it being brought up at all. “That’s not what I’m after at all, I promise, I-” he stopped, sighing and rubbing his face. “You’re what, like… twenty four?”

“Twenty-one,” he corrected quietly.

The look on Bruce’s face made Matt’s stomach sink. He looked like he was crossed, suddenly, between relief (probably that Matt wasn’t any younger), and brief fear. Because, right, Bruce didn’t have the luxury of just looking Matt up on the internet and finding there was a thirteen year age gap between them. The look in Bruce’s eyes obviously meant he was struggling with that for a moment, darting from Matt’s face down to his coffee, away, and back again. Was he going to call this not-arraignment off, now?

“Twenty-one,” Bruce repeated, just as quiet. “You’re twenty one…”

“And you’re thirty-four,” Matt said. “You’re the co-founder of Cabra…”

They sit in silence for a moment, Matt finally weighing the words on his tongue having spoken them aloud, and Bruce looked like he was morally debating if he still wanted to do this, get involved in any fashion with a twenty-one year old, especially with his life being in the public eye so often. The bustle of the coffee shop was enough of a distraction for them, before Bruce sighed. “I’m still offering this to you, Matt,” he said, softly. Matt felt his stomach burn for a moment. “There’s a risk, of course, but I want to help you. Honestly. Nothing malicious behind it.”

Matt rubbed his thumbs along the side of the cup, fidgeting a little. He was honestly not sure what to say. Bruce seemed sincere, seemed like the type of guy to not lie through his teeth to get what he wanted, and he was _attractive_ , which was an added bonus. And Matt, honestly, needed this sort of turnaround in his luck and in his life. The nervous energy of getting some kind of caught was buzzing just under his skin, too. Maybe he had been too careful in his life, and needed this. He shifted in his seat, swallowing down the lump in his throat, before nodding, steadily, once. “I'll do it,” he told him softly. His anxiety would give him hell for this later, but right now he was going to be confident and brave, for once. Enough playing the quiet, safe Matthew. “I’ll give it a try.”

Bruce's smile lit up the shop, and Matt wondered if he wouldn't just go the whole nine yards with him anyway. “Alright. So it's settled.”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbled. “What… what happens now?”

His eyes followed down his hoodie, his high school's football team logo faded and worn on the front, holes in the sleeves for his thumb, stray strings hanging everywhere. Matt gulped. “I think shopping, first of all. I have a meeting to be today, though. When are you free?”

Matt bit back the sarcastic reply on his tongue, taking a sip of his tea to keep himself quiet. “Any day this or next week,” he mumbled into the lid.

“Okay. I'll just text you and let you know?” He asked.

“Sounds fine to me.”

Bruce nodded and gathered his things, unrolling his sleeves and putting his suit jacket back on. “Alright. I'll text you then. It was nice officially meeting you.” He offered his hand and Matt took and shook it. Enough inappropriate thoughts, Matthew. This is Professional, capital _P_.

“It was nice officially meeting you, too. I'm still sorry about Saturday.”

Bruce waved him off as he took his coffee and Matt mirrored him, standing up and getting his things. “Don't worry about it. People can be more sincere when they're drunk. It was endearing.” Bruce went red as the last word left his mouth, and he cleared his throat. “I'll see you later, Matt.”

Matt watched him leave, wondering what the _fuck_ that was supposed to mean.

* * *

 

_> **MISTAKES WERE MADE** : Hey, you busy this Saturday?_

_> > **Matt** : Oh, I think I'm free Saturday. I'll ask my roommate and friends and let you know, Bruce._

_> **MISTAKES WERE MADE** :  Alright! Just keep me updated._

_> > **Matt** : [unsent] WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY ENDEARING_

_> > **Matt** : Will do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two, p much powered thru this over the weekend while in austin, and finished it on the bus back to dallas last night. peace sign emoji.  
> [follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)  
> [cross post on tumblr](http://seanspooles.co.vu/post/143017250460/2-sugar-cubes-no-cream-2)


	3. it feels like they don't understand me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Song for the Chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQAyVdnUAWU&ab_channel=ARTAVE)]
> 
> [[Bruce's Car](https://www.audiusa.com/models/audi-r8)]

_ > **Spoole** : Hey. Joel and Adam said you've been acting kinda weird for a few days. Everything alright, Matt? _

_ >> **Matt** : Yeah. Everything's fine. Just been stressed. You know. Dropping out, getting fired. I'm trying to figure stuff out. I'll be back around eventually. _

_ > **Spoole** : Oh, yeah, I understand that. Don't push yourself. We all know everything crazy right now. If you need time to yourself, we get it. And if you need us, you know we're a phone call away! _  

_ >> **Matt** : [unsent] IVE MADE SO MANY MISTAKES, SEAN. IM LOSING CONTROL OF MY BARELY ADULT LIFE. _

_ >> **Matt** : I know. Thanks Sean. _

_ > **Spoole** :  <3 _

 

* * *

 

There was something incredibly unnerving about the idea of Bruce spending actual money on Matt, that didn’t occur to him until Saturday morning as he was getting ready to go out shopping. Matt didn’t know _how_ he avoided thinking about it for so long, but as he was making an excuse to Adam about where he was going as he made breakfast, and dodging the looks Lawrence was giving him over his coffee, he had nothing to think about but that. Bruce was _rich_ , that’s why he was doing this, right? He had plenty of money obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have offered to take on the financial responsibility of a college drop out twenty-one year old. Cash was something he must have had in spades, but the idea of him using a cent of that on Matt made his stomach churn so bad he had heartburn for an hour after he had nibbled at half a waffle and took a few sips of coffee. Just the thought of being pampered, being bought things he needed, or maybe he didn’t, was something he was going to have to get used to, even if the price tags were going to make him anxious.

Hell, forget the price tags. Bruce’s _car_ was making him nervous.

It was a brand Matt didn’t recognize, despite his knowledge of them being somewhat respectable, and looked like it was expensive enough to pay off his tuition a few times over. There was hardly a speck of dust or dirt anywhere on it, sunlight shining off it perfectly, if not obnoxiously for how early it was, but as Matt passed across the front to the passenger’s side, he could see a scrape in the paint where the front bumper must have hit something. He hummed, eying it for a moment, before he nervously opened the door and slide into the seat, shifting on the squeaky leather as Bruce gave him a polite smile from over the console. “Uh, nice car,” he told Bruce quietly, chewing on his lower lip. He felt out of place; the interior was sleek and dark, and he assumed a scuff on the glove box would cost more to repair than his family home did, which didn’t help calm his nerves in the slightest.

“Oh, thanks,” Bruce responded cheerfully. There was an edge to his voice, though, but Matt couldn’t place it. He glanced at him as they pulled away from the curb, and he wasn’t surprised to find Bruce looking at home against the expensive leather, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift between them. Matt pried his eyes away from staring at the muscles of Bruce’s arms, and moved his gaze to his right and out the window, trying to distract himself by counting out of state license plates and watching the clouds, before Bruce’s voice pulled him back in. “So, um. You were in school. What were you studying? I uh… Don’t think you told me that at the bar.”

Matt was  grateful for the awkward conversation; at least they won’t have to sit in awkward silence. He wished Bruce didn’t bring up the bar, though. As weird and uncomfortable as this situation was, he didn’t want to be continuously reminded about _how_ this weird and uncomfortable situation came to be. “Post production,” he said, wishing the car was a little louder so his voice would fade into the background. “I… I wanted to do video editing and… stuff like that.”

“That’s kind of broad,” was the reply he got in turn, and _God_ he hoped it wasn’t going to be like that conversation he had with his dad before he graduated high school. “Did you have any places you wanted to work in mind or…”

“Not… Really,” Matt answered nervously, shifting and picking at the strings at the bottom of his hoodie. He didn’t want to think about how unprepared he was for all that, how it brought on too many flare ups in his anxiety to be considered healthy. “I was sorta winging it. I figured I’d find somewhere, you know?”

Bruce hummed in soft agreement. “I get that,” he told him. “Did you like it? Post production, I mean.”

Maybe… not? Matt swallowed a bit and nodded, even though Bruce couldn’t see. “Yeah. I mean. I liked it. It was definitely something I was good at,” he said. “I knew a lot of people who weren’t really passionate about their majors, so I feel like maybe I got lucky, or…. Something.”

“Maybe you did. Being in a major you like is pretty important.”

“What did, um, you major in?”

Bruce fell into silence, the kind of palpable, tense silence that made Matt want to back pedal his question and take it back as quick as he had said it, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him say a thing. The car slowed and Bruce pulled into a mall’s parking lot, going for the nearest spot. “I um, didn’t major in anything,” he said, and the tone of his voice- edging on sadness, maybe with a ton of regret- made Matt not want to push it any farther. He didn’t have to know anything about Bruce; that wasn’t really the deal. “Uh. Okay. We’re here. Let’s um. Get you something that isn’t falling apart?”

The anxiety he felt a moment ago from possibly saying something stupid faded away, only to be replaced by the fiery anxiety of having money be _spent on him_ , and he felt his chest burn again. “Oh. Right, yeah. Okay.”

He slid out of the car, careful not to drag his feet along the baseboards, or to close the door more forcibly than needed, and even felt his heart in his throat at the fingerprints he left on the door handle. Bruce glanced at him over the top of the car, and Matt avoided his looks, glancing at the damage on the bumper. “Oh, uh. What happened?”

Bruce hummed, casting a quick look, before realization popped in his eyes. “Oh. Yeah, that. Hit a light pole in a parking lot. Haven’t had the time to go get it fixed,” he said, easily, and Matt hummed, before stumbling behind him a bit to follow along. “I hoped it wasn’t so noticeable…”

Matt bit back his sarcastic reply, nodding. “Mmm. It kind of is.”

“I’ll go get it fixed sometime this week,” he muttered, absently, before clicking his tongue as they headed into the building, hands sliding into his short’s pockets, and Matt took a moment to give him a confused look at the shorts, before he was speaking again. “Alright, where to first?” he asked him, eyes on him suddenly, and Matt’s throat went dry, turning back to face the mall.

He didn’t know the last time he went shopping, properly, for clothes. Probably before the year started, when he went home for a month over the summer and his mom to him to the nearest Target to pick up a pair of thirty dollar jeans and a ten dollar hoodie among the groceries they needed. The jeans were holding up well, a few holes here and there, and the bottom hems were starting to fray a little, nothing that warranted replacement. But he had lost the hoodie in the library his first week back, and his backup was the one Bruce had oh-so-uncomfortably sized up at the coffee shop Wednesday. The only thing he could _really_ think of getting was a new hoodie, since it was all he really wanted, but from the way Bruce was eying the holes in the knees of his jeans, he didn’t think he was going to walk away so empty handed. “Somewhere cheap,” he blurted out before _properly_ thinking about it, and felt his face flush. What kind of answer was that?

Bruce’s eyebrows perked up a tad, before he hummed. “Alright uh,” he mumbled to himself. “Well there’s-”

“There’s an Old Navy, or something, right?” Matt asked, and he ignored the look he was given, if to do nothing but help with his anxiety. People pass by them, carrying bags and bags of things, chattering and barely paying them any attention. “I shop there. Let’s just-”

He had barely registered that he was starting to walk off, the start of a long winded, nervous ramble in his throat, before Bruce’s hand (his _strong, large_ hand) fell on his shoulder, pulling him back gently. “Whoa, whoa, okay, alright, hang on,” he said, and Matt snapped his mouth shut. “Old Navy? Okay… You’re obviously not used to the money thing, I get it. So… How much are jeans from Old Navy? Roughly?”

Matt blinked, opening and closing his mouth a few times, before stuttering a reply. “T-Twenty? Thirty?” he said, wording it more like a question. “T-They’re cheap, I know that much.”

Gears were turning in Bruce’s head, he could see it, but he had no idea where he was going with this. “Okay. Let’s be generous, and they’re thirty. How long do they last you? Six months?”

“Four to six?”

“Okay. So you have buy jeans two, maybe three times a year?” Bruce asked. Matt nodded dumbly. A couple of girls walked by, casting Bruce looks, hearts in their eyes, and Matt felt like he was just a human shaped wall between them. It didn’t help the anxiety in his gut. “Alright. So what if you just… Spent all that at once and bought a few pairs of jeans that would last longer than a third of a year?”

Oh. Oh that’s where he was going with this. The thought of spending _more_ made acid rise in his throat, but then it clicked into his brain, and… made him less nervous? Bruce was making real sense, rational sense that made his irrational brain not have a fit about what he was doing. He nodded, robotically, and glanced away from his face. “Y-Yeah, okay, okay I can do that.”

Bruce’s grin was wide and splitting. Matt’s heart skipped a beat. “I know just the place.”

It seemed like a never ending, torturous ordeal by the end of it, when Bruce finally decided he had enough emotional (and borderline physical) torment. Matt held two bags in his hands, one with three pairs of jeans from the Levi’s shop (he stared at the price tags with a pale face for _minutes_ before Bruce finally pulled him away), and the other from Aeropostale with a few stripped hoodies that lacked the gaudy logo all over it (Bruce didn’t let him look at a single price tag this time, and made him step outside of the shop when he checked out). He could feel a year’s worth of guilt and regret settle on his shoulders as he stared at the bags, trying to calculate in his brain how much _money_ that was, how much Bruce just spent on him, before he glanced up at the man when he heard him mumble a curse. He was holding his phone, a frown on his face. “Hang on, I’ve got to take this call”, he told him. “Wait here? I’ll be right back.”

Matt nodded absently as Bruce answered the call and disappeared around the corner, talking quickly. He slowed his walking pace to a stop, giving the window display to his left a glance, before his eyes went wide. He scanned over the items in the storefront, hands unconsciously gripping the plastic of the bags, before Bruce came back. “Sorry, it was a work thing…” he started, trailing off when he saw Matt. He quickly snapped his gaze away from the shop, and back to Bruce, hoping his look wasn’t too longing. Bruce’s eyes moved between him and the window display, before he hummed. “Well. Let’s call it a day? I need to get back soon. Something came up.”

“Of course, yeah,” Matt mumbled, watching Bruce turn his back, before giving the items in the window one last look, before jogging to catch up to him.

 

* * *

 

 _ > _ **_What Are You To Me??_ ** _: Hey, I know you were too nervous to try anything on today, so don’t remove tags until you know everything fits. If something doesn’t, we can return it._

 _ >> _ **_Matt_ ** _: Yeah, I tried everything on earlier. Fit fine. No returns needed._

 _ > _ **_What Are You To Me??_ ** _: You aren’t just saying that to say it, right?_

 _ >> _ **_Matt_ ** _: I’m sure._

 _ >> _ **_Matt_ ** _: [unsent] Do you need photographic evidence to prove it._

 _ >> _ **_Matt_ ** _: I promise._

_ > **What Are You To Me??** : If you say so. I’ll let you know when I’m free and we can get coffee or something? _

_ >> **Matt** : Sounds good. And hey. Thanks for today. And the clothes. Just. Thanks. _

_ > **What Are You To Me??** : You’re welcome, Matt. ❤️ _

_[ **What Are You To Me??** ] changed to [ **I’m So Fucked** ] _

 

* * *

 

“So. What are you hiding Matt?”

Matt held his mug a little harder than needed, swallowing a particularly painful gulp of coffee and setting his phone down- text to Bruce unfinished on the screen- before coughing quietly into the sleeve of his hoodie. His _new_ hoodie. The _new_ hoodie that _Bruce bought_ him. Lawrence watched him, unimpressed, from across the small kitchen table, crossing his arms over his chest. The action made his skin crawl uncomfortably. Matt glared at him, before taking an easier sip to make his throat feel less like sandpaper, before he gave Lawrence a half-hearted reply that sounded better in his head. “What are you talking about?”

He should have seen this coming; Lawrence was _perceptive_ , and he wasn’t scared of cutting right to the chase. Adam and Spoole and Joel would be content to forever dance around something if Matt didn’t feel like talking about it, giving him space and air to decide how to approach situations himself. Lawrence didn’t do that song and dance, had figured out quick in their friendship that asking now and getting answers later sometimes just didn’t cut it. Matt figured he was too intelligent for his own good, and was too good at reading people, and specifically seeing through Matt Peake’s Signature Brand of Bullshit™, if nothing else. And the way Lawrence was looking at him now, across toast that had long gone cold, and coffee that was still comfortably warm, Matt figured he was as good as a cornered animal. Time to show the claws, he guessed.

The apartment was empty beside the two of them and Adam, who was taking a shower back in his bathroom, getting ready for the movie him and Lawrence were going to go see for half price on a Sunday matinee. Which meant Matt was stuck here for at _least_ another fifteen minutes. “I’m not hiding anything, Sonntag,” he added, for emphasis, but realized the emphasis fell short by at least half a minute.

Lawrence’s eyes narrowed, moving to prop his elbow up on the table, truly studying Matt now, judging his every flinch and breath and nervous swallow. He twitched, slightly, under his gaze, and tried not to immediately avert his gaze when his phone vibrated, once. A text. Bruce. Lawrence’s eyes did drop, though, looking at the flash of his screen. Matt didn’t move, but felt his hands sweat around the ceramic of his mug. “Are you going to answer that…?”

Matt tried not to see over eager in picking it up off the cheap wood, opening the text.

_ > **I’m So Fucked** : I’m swamped all next week. Might have Saturday off. Plans then sound good? _

“It’s not important,” Matt lied, locking the screen and setting it down again. “It can wait.”

Lawrence returned to his blank, judging, calculating look, before the corner of his mouth tilted downward. “You haven’t told Adam, Spoole or Joel, whatever it is. Have you?” he asked. Matt didn’t bother with an answer, habitually going to pick at the strings on his hoodie, but there were none to pick at. God _dammit._ “Spill, Peake.”

God he was cornered. He was so fucking cornered, and he was a declawed kitten instead of the rabid dog he hoped he would look like. “You can’t tell them,” he said, quickly, quietly, like Adam could hear them over the spray of the shower. Lawrence’s eyebrows perked up. “Or anyone. You can’t. Promise me you won’t.”

“My lips are zipped, Matt. Unless you killed someone,” he joked, but backpedaled at the icy glare he was given. “Really. I promise. I won’t tell a soul.”

Matt hesitated, fingers fidgeting on his mug, listening for Adam’s shower. Still running. He took a deep breath and willed away the pounding in his chest and the nerves that made his hands shake. “You know Bruce Green. Co-founder of Cabra? The fashion company?” he asked quickly.

Lawrence nodded, slowly, eyes narrowing. He thought Matt changed the subject, he could see it. “Joel never shuts up about him, what does this have to do with-”

“I drunkenly confessed my life problems to him on accident last Saturday and gave him my number and he offered to buy me things and help me out financially? Well, things I need, I mean, like clothes since all mine are falling apart, and maybe bills and-”

He shut his mouth and silence his anxiety-fueled spill the moment Lawrence waved his hands and started shaking his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Peake,” he said, using the tone they all use when Matt’s nerves are getting the better of him; calm down, slow down, breathe. “Are you saying Bruce Greene is your sugar daddy?”

Matt winced at the term. He really didn’t want to keep referring to Bruce as that. The term still conjured up images of sleazy old men in tacky suits with gaudy golden watches. Bruce was absolutely _not_ a sleazy old man in a tacky suit and gaudy gold watch. “When you say it, it sounds creepy,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee.

Lawrence seemed to disregard what he said. “That’s what he is, though,” he said, unphased, without missing a beat. “I really never expected something like this from you, Matt. Joel, probably. You? Not a chance. Isn’t he like. Forty?”

“Thirty-four,” Matt corrected. “And thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s not like I was trying on some dating site made for it. Drunk me made a mistake, and sober me is paying the price.” He sat back on that, taking a sip of his coffee as he did.

“What did drunk you do?”

The voice made Matt spit his coffee out on the table at shock, coughing and setting his mug down before he could drop it, sending Lawrence glares as he started laughing. “Whoa, alright, sorry I’m asked,” Adam mumbled, passing them and going to the kitchen. Matt regained his composure, wiping his phone off on his jeans.

“Drunk me fucked up, like normal,” he mumbled half heartedly. Lawrence gave another chuckle, before Matt kicked him under the table, listening to him and Adam strike up a conversation. He tuned out, letting their chatter become background noise as he opened up the text from Bruce and replied, finally.

_ >> **Matt** : Saturday sounds good. _

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Matt, did you order anything?”

Adam held a box in his hands, standing in the doorway of Matt’s bedroom, glancing between him and the package, more confused than Matt had ever seen him. It was Monday night, the week finally kicking off with an uneventful day, and brief snippets of texting with Bruce, mostly about the weekend. Matt glanced up from his phone, half finished text to Joel written out, and furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “No, I… I didn’t,” he said, setting his phone down and getting out of his bed, walking over to Adam and taking the box. It was heavy, with his name neatly written on the label in the front, the return address listed for a place he couldn’t pinpoint off the top of his head, for one Goose Breene. His heart leapt into his throat immediately because there was no way that wasn’t Bruce. He glanced at Adam, who was waiting patient for some kind of ending to the package mystery, and Matt panicked. “Oh, uh…”

“Are you gonna open it?” Adam asked.

He couldn’t make him leave; Adam was curious, and Matt didn’t want to look suspicious. “Right, okay,” he said, moving to set the box down on the end of his bed, grabbing scissors off his desk to cut the packing tape. He didn’t know what was inside; maybe he left something with Bruce and this was the easiest way to get it back? Or maybe something Matt picked out to buy, Bruce had to order online and send to him? Or what if it’s just something completely inappropriate and not only had Matt read Bruce wrong, but Bruce flat out lied in the coffee shop about this being a things-in-return-for-sex situation. Matt couldn’t get his anxiety to lower from his throat as he pulled the box open, reaching in and pulling out-

Another box. A shoe box. A shoe box with the sneakers Matt had been ogling on Saturday. Matt stared blankly, catching a glimpse of a folded up card in the bottom of the packing box, before pushing the back, out of Adam’s sight, to set down the shoe box. “You ordered shoes?” Adam asked from next to him, crossing his arms as Matt slid the top off and looked down at the shoes. “When did you do that?”

“I… I uh, the other day,” he lied, brain still trying to process this, still trying to process the clothes, still trying to process _Bruce_. He bought him those shoes?

“Where’d you get the money for these? They look nice,” Adam said, looking over his shoulder, and a cold chill crept up Matt’s back and he closed the lid to the box quickly.

“A place,” Matt said, grabbing the card from inside the packing box and setting it on his desk, before pushing the box flat.

Adam made a noise behind him. “Are you… doing something illegal?”

Matt’s head snapped up, and Adam looked… _concerned_ . He looked worried, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his desk, and he was tall, and intimidating, and Matt had _always_ been just a tad intimidated of him, but his stance isn’t aggressive, or demanding. He’s passive, watching Matt and studying him, waiting patiently for an answer. “Because… I noticed your new clothes, and there was that really nice car out in the parking lot Saturday-”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I’m not doing anything illegal, Adam why- Why would you-”

“Because it… It’s like you spent a bunch of money out of nowhere,” he said, his demeanor seeping into his voice. “And I know it’s not my business but you’re my roommate and my best friend and I just want to know if you’re-”

“I can take care of myself Adam,” he said, and it comes out like a snap, cracks metaphorically like a whip and makes Adam flinch and take a small step back, giving Matt his space. Matt felt regret wash over him instantly, and he shook his head. “I-I’m fine, Adam, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m okay.”

Adam nodded, once, solemnly and silently, before he sighed. “Okay. Well. I guess I’ll… Leave you alone now,” he said, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him carefully. Matt stood there, a moment, before picking up the card off his desk, opening it up to see Bruce’s neat handwriting.

_“Matt- I saw you staring at these at the mall, and well. Oops? I didn’t know your size, so I guessed. Try them on and let me know if they fit? If not well. Returns, and all that. Hope you like them! - Bruce.”_

He thumbed at the crease in the cardstock, before sitting it down in the draw of his desk, shutting it and moving to but the shoebox in his closet, flopping down in bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. He tried to feel excited, about the shoes, about how Bruce noticed something so small about him, but all he could see is Lawrence’s heavy stare across the kitchen table, how Joel’s eyes had lingered on him at the coffee shop, Spoole’s worried texts, and Adam’s concern and how he moved back like he had been hurt at Matt’s tone. Pushing your friends away wasn’t worth this, was it? He sighed and turned onto his side in bed, curling up under his blankets and trying to will himself to sleep. For the first time in over a week, it wasn’t anxiety that was nagging at his chest, and causing his brain to overclock.

Matt didn’t know how to feel about anything now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is so good to be FUCKING BACK
> 
>  
> 
> [follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)  
>   
> [cross post on tumblr](http://seanspooles.co.vu/post/146518195280/2-sugar-cubes-no-cream-3)


	4. how willing i am to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Song for the Chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab2HxJqpAnM)]
> 
> [[Bruce's House](http://www.theagencyre.com/for-sale/9945-beverly-grove-beverly-hills/#2)]

If by the grace of a God who decided to be benevolent just this _one time_ in Matt’s life, over the course of a few days of sitting on the thoughts of all that had happened with Bruce (and all that would), he can finally feel his anxiety reach levels that are somewhat normal for other people. It felt like a breath of fresh air, to finally be able to stand back, and look at the situation without his nerves fogging his judgement and train of thought. It’s been two weeks since the Incident - as Lawrence started calling it, because of course he did - and Matt was finally able to look at it for what it was, a really weird situation where all the chips fell into weird places that somehow all fit together like puzzle pieces. Matt had been so busy panicking and freaking out over it, he didn’t even _consider_ how strange of a position he had gotten himself into, and now that he did, he had to bite back laughter in the middle of the baking aisle. It was so absurd, having an attractive, wealthy man thirteen years his senior buy him jeans and hoodies and even a pair of _sneakers_ , and expect nothing in return. Absurd. Strange. Weird. Down right fucking unbelievable. But at the same time, it felt almost… Comforting.

It wasn’t the same kind of comfort he got from his bed, under all his covers, of course. Wasn’t the silent, supportive comfort he got around Adam, or around Joel or Spoole or Lawrence. It wasn’t the kind of comfort he got being home and eating his mom’s home cooked food. But it was a comfort, something that settled in his chest and his gut, and made him feel… How did he feel? He picked up a bag of sugar, putting it into the little hand basket he was holding, trying to ignore how he wanted to answer that question. It wasn’t a word, or an overly complicated analogy that he’d get lost in halfway through, but there was _something_ , something noteworthy, something he couldn’t _ignore_ , not for long. He didn’t know when he’d have to face that question, give himself a solid, real answer, but he knew it wasn’t now.

 _ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _:_ _Busy today?_

Matt paused, briefly, halfway between the aisle and the self checkout lines, phone open in his hand, debating with himself on how to answer. He needed to stop acting aloof and distant to his best friends, because as much as he was trying _not_ to, he was. Adam was still giving him the cold shoulder from Monday, and while Lawrence was constantly hassling him, Spoole and Joel were still acting concerned, worried he was in over his head with something. His fingers hovered over the keys, sighing and adjusting the handbasket on his elbow, typing out a quick reply. Matt would probably regret this later.

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Grocery shopping. One second._

He scurried ahead when a line opened, quickly paying for everything they needed and heading out of the store with a bag of what he needed and his receipt. He wrestled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his car, setting everything into the backseat and getting in on the driver’s side, when his phone buzzed in his hand again.

 _ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: Do you need a ride or anything?_

Matt froze for a moment; did Bruce not know he could drive? He went over their conversations in his head, and he came to the cold, stunning realization that Bruce… didn't. It wasn’t like Matt drove often, so that’s probably why. Gas was expensive, he rarely needed to go somewhere that wasn’t within walking distance, and his car was an absolute piece of garbage anyway, so the less he had to be behind the wheel of this rusted pile of metal on wheels, the safer and happier he was. He typed a quick reply, sighing as he put his keys into the ignition.

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I can drive? I think I’m okay._

He was fiddling with the radio when his phone went off again, but instead of the quick burst of vibration for a text, it was long, drawn out, and a picture of Bruce came up on screen, prompting him to swipe to answer. Matt hesitated, before picking it up and answering. “Uh. Hi?”

“You can drive?” Bruce asked. “Don’t tell me you were texting and driving.”

“What, no!” Matt said quickly, shaking his head, even if Bruce couldn’t see it. “I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot. I don’t text and drive.”

Bruce was quiet, for a moment, before he sighed. “I didn’t know you drove.”

There was something about the way he said it that Matt had to actively avoid how it made his chest feel (tight? Warm? Conflicted and confused?). “I don’t drive often. My car sucks and everything is usually within walking distance.”

He hummed. “I get it, yeah.”

Matt went quiet, not sure what to say, still unsure of how conversation with Bruce should go. Did they even have anything in common? Matt certainly didn’t know a damn thing about Bruce’s business, and Bruce was older than him and probably didn’t know much about video games. He picked at a stray string on his steering wheel. “I can drive myself to uh. Wherever you want to meet up today,” he told him.

“Oh,” Bruce’s reply was almost like a breath, before he cleared his throat. “Right, uh. I was thinking my place?” Matt’s stomach lurched, anxiety kicking up in his chest again. His _house_. “I’ve got some shit I gotta finish up, but-”

“I… I have to go see my friend Spoole. Sean. Uh,” he stuttered, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll see you after though. Is that okay? I won’t be real late.”

“Yeah, of course, of course, that’s fine,” Bruce told him. “Yeah. Just-”

“I’ll text you, yeah,” Matt finished for him, the line going quiet. “I’ll just, see you then?”

There was a rustling, before Bruce chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, see you then.”

Matt almost dropped his phone after goodbyes, hanging up and letting his head fall onto his steering wheel. So much for being anxiety free.

 _His house_.

 

* * *

 

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _:_ _SOS_

 _ > _ **_Spoole_** _: Matt? What’s wrong are you hurt?_

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I need to meet up with you right now are you busy?_

 _ > _ **_Spoole_** _: No! No I’m not but what’s wrong?_

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I need to explain in person. McDonald’s? I’ll come pick you up._

 _ > _ **_Spoole_** _: You’re worrying me, but okay. I’ll be ready._

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I’m actually losing control of my life. Be by in a few._

 _ > _ **_Spoole_** _: :(_

 

* * *

 

Spoole was staring at him, eyebrows down and eyes worried, and Matt picked at his french fries, ignoring his gaze and feeling the coil of anxiety tightening around his stomach, before he felt like he was going to vomit. He deserved to know. He needed to know. Spoole was the closest person he had to him other than Adam, and someone needed to know he was about to go to an older man’s house, alone, who wasn’t Lawrence. Bruce was nice, and Matt was warming up to him with texts, but what if he _was_ going to kill him? He finally set a fry he had thoroughly coated in ketchup down, meeting Spoole’s eyes for the first time since he picked him up, and sighing. “I’m sorta seeing Bruce Greene.”

He froze with his mouth hanging open, fries falling from his fingers and back onto the tray in front of him as he just stared, gaped, at Matt. “B-Bruce Greene?” he squeaked. “L-Like-”

“The Bruce Greene who owns Cabra,” he said quietly. “Cabra, as in that company Joel is nearly obsessed with. And I’m… kinda seeing him. He’s-” He trailed off, biting his lip and looking back down at his food. “-my sugar daddy…”

“O-Oh my God!” Spoole gasped, before looking around quickly, making sure no one was listening to them, before he leaned in over their food, eyebrows low in concern. “Oh God, Matt, is money really worth having s-”

Matt shook his head, sitting back and waving his hands wildly. Of course that’s immediately where Spoole would jump to. “No, no, no, Sean, it’s not like that-”

“But that’s usually how it goes, right?” he asked, fidgeting in his chair. Matt couldn’t tell if he was anxious for him, or anxious at the idea, but he could personally feel the panic spread up in his chest. “Matt, what were you thinking? I know things have been bad but…”

“It’s…” Matt trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story. Ask Lawrence-”

Spoole made a noise in the back of his throat, and oh _God_ , Matt wished he didn’t have to have this conversation. “Lawrence? You told _Lawrence_ first?”

“He figured it out, and I couldn’t lie-”

“And Joel and Adam?” Matt froze, and Spoole frowned, properly frowned, disappointment in his eyes. “You haven’t told them?”

“Joel would want to strangle me-”

“Adam wants to strangle himself, he thinks he’s been overbearing or something lately-”

“I know, I just-” Matt stopped, sighing and dropping his face to the table, resting his forehead on the cold, fake wood. “I needed to let someone know that I’m going to his house later, and I don’t feel like dealing with Lawrence’s assumptions. I know you’d believe me if I said nothing is going to happen.”

Spoole went quiet. He heard his straw squeak against the plastic lid, heard ice shift in his cup, then the crumbling of a hamburger wrapper. “You need to tell them,” he told him, and Matt felt the panic rise in his throat, making the back of his tongue burn at the idea. He didn’t want to do it, but he knew he needed to. Adam and Joel deserved better than a best friend that was sneaking around behind their back like this, and keeping huge secrets from them.

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Hey what’s your address?_

 _ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: Oh, wow, right, you don’t have that._

 _ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: [I’m So Fucked sent an attachment for Maps]_

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Thanks. I’ll be there in a bit?_

 _ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: Alright!_

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: [unsent] And I’ll only be mildly an anxious mess._

 

* * *

 

Matt almost thought this _couldn’t_ be where Bruce lived, at first.

The house was large, expensive, modern. It was grand, definitely worth more than anywhere Matt had ever stayed in his life, and almost looked more like a work of art than a place someone actually _lived_ in. It made him feel small, in size and existence, because he knew he’d never have the money to buy a place like this, like he was too poor to even _look_ at it. He wringed his hands on his steering wheel, looking up at it and biting his lip, before swallowing away the anxiety rising in his throat and grabbing his phone, sending a quick text.

 _ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I’m here._

He saw the front door open at the front, Bruce’s figure poking out from behind the door and doorframe, and Matt let out a shaky sigh, before he got out of his car. Gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked up the walkway, eyeing the building in front of him. God, it really was impressive, price tag aside. He almost slowed to a stop, staring up at the walls and windows, hearing Bruce laugh. “I’ve never seen you look so starry eyed,” he said. Matt’s face went red, hoping Bruce didn’t poke fun at him for it, before glancing at him. “Do you want to come in?”

Matt nodded, nervously, scurrying past Bruce and hearing the door click shut behind them, and- _God_.

The inside felt even more overwhelming than the outside, tall ceilings and modern art on the walls. There were stairs going up to the upper level, everything was so white and clean and _expensive_ , that Matt had trouble swallowing around a lump in his throat, much less speaking. “It’s-” he started, choking over his words, eyes wide and looking at everything around him. Would Spoole even believe he stepped foot in a house like this? And he thought Adam’s apartment was nice. If he was a cartoon character, he was sure he’d have stars in his eyes. “Wow…” His gaze fell back on Bruce, and his heart jumped into his throat at the almost endeared look on his face, before it was gone, replaced by a neutral expression. Matt tried to calm the racing in his chest, before he looked away. “So, um. Why did you invite me?”

“Oh, I…” Bruce seemed to snap out of whatever sort of spaced out state he had been in, looking away to the living room and motioning toward it. “Thought we could… I don’t know. Hang out or something? I wasn’t really in a mood to be out around people today, but I really wanted to-” He stopped himself, color draining from his face for a moment. The words go unspoken as their eyes meet again, and Matt felt his stomach churn, before Bruce coughed. “I have video games. Do you play?”

Matt relaxed a moment, nodding and smiling a bit. Okay. So they did have _something_ in common. “Yeah. Yeah I play.”

Bruce smiled, one that wasn’t unlike a smile he gave him in the coffee shop, that made the world around him brighter and made Matt’s insides melt in that tell-tale way. _Oh no_ . “Sweet. Overwatch? Halo?” he asked, and Matt nodded, silently, brain a storm again as he followed Bruce and sat on his too-plush couch, and slid off his shoes, bringing his feet up onto the cushion with him. Bruce busied himself with changing the games out in his Xbox, and Matt didn’t even pretend to not be staring at his ass. _‘God Matthew, really?’_ “I don’t play often. I’m usually too busy with work. James, uh that’s my friend? He usually plays with me, though.”

Matt hummed as Bruce turned to him, handing him a controller and sitting next to him. He was looking at him, expectedly, like Matt was going to say something, like he started to and stopped, so Matt blurted out the first thing to come to mind. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

They went quiet, before Bruce was laughing, and Matt felt himself sink into the couch cushions. “We’ll see about that.”

It was hours before Matt was finally able to pull himself out of the game long enough to focus on anything else. Hours of him and Bruce yelling at each other, pushing each other on the couch and laughing when the other died. He couldn’t remember last time he had this much fun playing video games, much less playing for this long; he had always been so caught up with work and school to make time for much else. Bruce set his controller down and got up with a cheery “be right back” as Matt looked at the time on his phone, less surprised than he thought he’d be when he saw 11:09PM in blocky numbers on the lock screen, along with two missed texts from Lawrence. He didn’t realize it had gotten so late, and hadn’t even noticed his phone going off. Bruce came back, carrying two bottles of soda, and Matt looked up. “Oh, fuck, hey, it’s kinda late, I think I’m gonna get going?” he asked, standing and slipping his shoes back on.

“Oh, okay,” Bruce said, setting one bottle down on the glass coffee table. His hands wrung the other one nervously. “Do you just want to crash here? Since it is late, I mean-”

“Oh, no, I…” Matt stuttered. “Uh. My roommate, you know, I don’t want him to worry so.” Bruce nodded, handing him the bottle with a smile, anyway. Matt caught sight of the label - Dr. Pepper - and he took it with a little nod. “I’ll… let you know when I get home, or something? And thanks, it was fun.”

“Yeah, please so I know nothing happened to you,” Bruce told him, smiling. “And it was fun. We should… I don’t know. Do this again sometime?” Matt nodded at the request, returning the smile, because if anything, Bruce’s was contagious, and it felt right to agree to that. He wanted to see Bruce more. Maybe. “Alright. Um. I’ll walk you to the door.” They walked together to the front, a comfortable silence settling over them, one that felt so different than all the awkward dropped conversations and places where neither of them knew what to say. Matt’s felt chest warm at the thought, before he turned to Bruce as he opened the door.

There was something in Bruce’s eyes that Matt couldn’t name, but it made his stomach flip as the older man took half a step toward him and leaned over just slightly into his space, before he stopped, pulling back. His heart hammered in his chest as he stumbled back a full step, watching emotions shift on Bruce’s face, before he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “G-Good night, Bruce. I’ll see you later,” he told him, palms sweating on his soda and on the door handle.

Bruce nodded, half smiling at him. “Night Matt. See you around.”

Matt headed out to his car, keys jingling as he pulled them from his pocket and unlocked the door, sliding into the front seat quickly. He sat there, chest threatening to burst and mind racing, before he let his head fall back on his seat with a soft “fuck”.

 

* * *

 

 _ >> _ **_Lawrence_** _: Adam’s staying at my place tonight. He’s convinced you’re mad at him for prying and thinks you need time to yourself. I don’t want to get in the middle of this, because this is your business, and not mine, but I do have something I need to tell you._

 _ >> _ **_Lawrence_** _: I won’t sit by and watch one of my best friends beat himself up over a problem that he didn’t cause. You need to tell him. And you need to tell him soon._

 

* * *

 

Matt got home after midnight; the apartment was already dark, and quiet. He had read Lawrence’s texts before he left Bruce’s, so he knew he’d be coming home to no one, but the way the darkness and silence settled around him made him feel uneasy. The apartment was hardly ever empty like this. He set down his keys and moved to the fridge, stopping when he saw a neon yellow sticky note on the front. He opened the door and unceremoniously dropped his bottle of soda inside on a shelf, before closing it and plucking the note off. It was Adam’s messy handwriting, and it made a stone sink into his stomach.

_“Matt; went to Lawrence’s for the night. Leftover pizza in the fridge. See you tomorrow. Adam.”_

He stood, unsure, in the kitchen for a moment, thumbing at the adhesive, before turning to carry it to his room, that familiar feeling of regret coiling in his chest. He set it down on his desk, next to the shoes that Bruce bought him, still in their box, and turned the ringer on his phone on, dropping it onto his bed. All he wanted to do now was shower and crawl into bed, then possibly sleep off Adam being upset at him, and him being a nervous mess (again) about Bruce. Matt slipped out of his shoes and headed to the bathroom, starting the water and stripping out of his clothes, taking a moment to glance in the mirror above the sink. He looked… well, he wasn’t prepared to look _decent_ , especially after his anxiety had been at an all time high for weeks, but he really didn’t look bad. There were some bags under his eyes, sure, and he could see where his lack of sleep had been working against him in his cheeks, but other than that, he really did look okay. He sighed and pushed away from the sink, going to step under the warm spray, letting out a soft sigh and working out the tension in his shoulders. There was a chime from his bedroom, and he knew it was his phone. Lawrence, probably, maybe even Bruce.

He quickly finished his shower, getting out and drying off, before heading back into his room to get dressed, laying down in bed and grabbing his phone. He looked at the lock screen, seeing a text and feeling himself go cold all over. Matt quickly unlocked it, reading the contents and feeling his stomach churn sickly, before he locked it. He rolled over and faced away from his phone, ignoring it, and the person who sent it, before he fell into a fitful sleep.

 _ > _ **_Mom_** _: Hey Matthew, it’s Mom. It’s been awhile since your father and I have heard from you, and we just want to know how you're doing with work and school and the like. Call me back when you can. I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big grateful shout out to my friend amber! she beta-d this chapter for me and did a great job!!
> 
>  
> 
> [follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)  
> [cross post on tumblr](http://seanspooles.co.vu/post/147503557320/2-sugar-cubes-no-cream-4)


	5. time for your ace in the hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Song for the Chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKTBMY52DYA&ab_channel=saintmotelvideo)]

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: It’s been a week Matt, what the fuck_

Matt almost choked on his cereal, setting the bowl down and coughing quietly, trying to clear his throat. It was quiet in the apartment, not the kind of quiet that made him feel safe, but the uneasy, unnerving quiet that had been following him around for the past week. Adam had gone straight from the front door to his room Sunday morning and hadn’t spoken a word to him since, and part of him knew he deserved it; he ditched apologizing and making up his best friend to hang out and play video games with Bruce. He more than deserved the cold shoulder. But Matt wasn’t anything if he wasn’t an anxious mess and more-or-less stubborn, so he hadn’t spoken a word in return, although it was mostly because he didn't know where to begin. He needed to apologize for snapping and being distant, while also telling him about Bruce, all in one swoop, but he didn’t know how to say any of it. Lawrence figured it out, and he told Spoole out of panic. But he had to sit down and _tell_ Adam, and then Joel. It definitely didn’t help his emotional and mental state that he was still unsure of what to say to his mom, chest bubbling nervously when he even _thought_ about telling her that he had dropped out and gotten fired. Combine them together, and Matt was sure his parents and Adam would make a nifty little _We’re Pissed Off At Matthew_ club, and get jackets and everything. Matt totally deserved it, too.

Lawrence was the one person he was trying to avoid the most, though. Spoole had gone silent on his end, still trying to process the information Matt had laid at his feet over french fries and shitty burgers, but Lawrence wanted _blood_. He wanted blood a week ago, when Adam went to stay at his place, probably more upset than was hinted at, and he sure as hell wanted blood now. Matt understood the rage bubbling in his veins under his skin; Adam was _his_ best friend, too, and Matt was acting less than stellar while Adam took the hard edge of it in return. But the idea of Lawrence talking to him about his situation made him remember that Lawrence didn’t beat around the bush; Spoole would take weeks trying to approach him about telling Adam and Joel. Lawrence wanted results _now_.

His fingers shook a little over the keys, before he typed something back quickly and went to rinse his bowl out.

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I know. I can tell time._

The situation only got worse when he factored in the fact he hadn’t heard from Bruce since last Saturday, too. He had tried to subtly ask Joel if there was anything going on with Cabra lately, but all he had managed to dig up in the recent news was a few stories about the other two owners donating a sum of money with way too many zeroes to a charity, and some gossip websites that offered nothing in terms of actual substance. Matt didn’t want to tack a real label onto his feelings about not speaking to Bruce in a week, but he ended up doing it anyway by Wednesday; it felt kind of off. It wasn’t like his world revolved around Bruce or anything, but they did spend a respectable amount of time trading some kind of pleasant conversation over texts. Having Bruce be busy with whatever he was busy with, on top of Adam ignoring him, felt like something was _seriously_ wrong with his life. That something was _missing_.

His phone buzzed on the counter as he shut off the water, and he mentally prepared himself for whatever text was waiting for him.

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: Don’t get smart assed with me, Peake. We’re talking about this today. I’m not giving you an out._

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: Starbucks in 15. Or else._

Matt was afraid Lawrence would try something like this; corner him and push him to take action. Granted, he needed that, because there was no way in hell his anxiety was going to let him do anything on his own. Lawrence wasn’t going to be delicate with this, either. He was going to get a new one ripped the moment he stepped in the door. He took a shaky breath and replied, with only a drop of regret in his chest after he hit send.

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Okay. Starbucks in 15._

 

* * *

 

Lawrence was _not_ fucking around.

Matt showed up to Starbucks in an anxious state worse than the one he left at, and it didn’t get any better as he entered the coffee shop and saw Lawrence sitting at a table alone. He had one cup of coffee in front of himself that he was slowly sipping on, and another cup across from him with Matt’s name on it. Now he couldn’t delay the inevitable by using the _“I need a drink”_ excuse. He regretted ever letting anyone know his typical order at Starbucks, before he walked over, sitting at the only other chair next to Lawrence, and pointedly avoiding his cold stare. “Does it-”

“Two packets of sugar, no milk. Matt, you’re not getting out of this any longer than you have,” Lawrence said, his voice snapping Matt in the chest, and he raised his eyes a little at him. Oh, God, he looked legitimately upset at him. “You’re going to come to a conclusion right here, today, about this entire situation.”

Matt took a sip of his tea and shifted, nervously. “What kind of conclusion.”

“If Bruce Greene is really worth being a royal asshat to your best friends.”

The statement - because it’s worded like one, not like a question - made Matt freeze. He had considered it, in passing, if seeing his friends look so concerned and conflicted over his behavior was really worth it. Bruce was a good man, Matt had no doubt about it, and his enthusiasm (could he call it that?) over helping Matt out for seemingly nothing in return showed a lot of character, alone. Matt could go so far to say that he liked seeing Bruce, liked spending time to him and talking to him; he was pleasant for conversation and funny. But Bruce wasn’t Adam, who had been stuck to his side since they were freshmen, Spoole and Joel who were the best emotional crutches a guy could ask for, and Lawrence, who, despite appearing somewhat detached and analytical, was dependable and caring. They were his best friends, and Bruce wasn’t and… It wasn’t fair that he was treating them this way. He ran his thumbs over the seam on the cup and swallowed. “I… I don’t think so.”

“Think?”

“I know,” he said, sharply, looking at Lawrence. His face was unreadable and neutral, and Matt stared for a moment, before looking down. “He’s a great guy, he really is. But he isn’t you, or Spoole, or Joel, or Adam.” Lawrence hummed in acknowledgement. “I know I’m in a tough spot right now, and Bruce has… sorta helped with that, but I shouldn’t prioritize him over you guys…”

Lawrence sat forward, and Matt’s attention was drawn back to him. He set his coffee down and sighed. “So what are you going to do then?”

“I don’t know,” Matt admitted softly. He couldn’t choose Bruce over them, he knew. But he didn’t want to drop whatever it was that he had with Bruce, either. He didn’t know _why_ he didn’t, but he didn’t.

Lawrence’s face shifted from stony and unreadable, to a soft concern, before it was back to what it was before. Matt swallowed his tea, hard. “I’ll give you an ultimatum,” he told him. “Either you choose between us and Bruce, or you tell Adam and Joel. You’re not going to keep doing this Matt.”

Matt nodded; it was reasonable, and he knew all along it would come to this. Anxiety rose in his throat anyway, though, and he barely registered choking out the words before they were being said. “How?”

“Be upfront and honest with them, Matt. They’re your best friends. Spoole and I didn’t take it badly did we?”

“Well,” he mumbled. “Spoole’s kind of questionable, but… no.”

Lawrence smiled at him, in that way that helped him feel a little less overwhelmed. “Then neither will they.”

He had to believe him, for his own mental well being, and for future him, who he knew was going to want to throw up just at the thought of being even vaguely confrontational. But telling his last two closest friends meant he needed to be upfront with Bruce, that more than just the two of them knew about this arrangement; which meant he needed to pay a visit to Bruce, too. He gulped down the last of his tea into his churning stomach, before he nodded. “Then… I’ll tell them.”

If only he thought it’d be that easy.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t hard to corner Adam at home, really. Matt had crept back in silently when he came back and sat in the living room until Adam had reappeared from his bedroom. He felt that familiar knot in his throat the moment he saw him, though, and didn’t know what to say. He rolled words over in his head, again and again, before it was Adam’s voice that broke the silence. “You’re staring at me like you want to say something. What’s up,” he said, but not with the typical Adam Kovic brand of deadpan; he sounded exhausted. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned to stare at Matt, raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’m sorry- I mean,” Matt choked out, standing from the couch and shaking his head. “Wait, no wait, uh. Well. I am sorry-”

“Matt, stop.” He shut his mouth and Adam sighed. “Take deep breaths. You’re panicking.”

Matt didn’t even realize. He nodded wordlessly and took a few shaky breaths, trying to will the racing heart in his chest to calm down. He didn’t even know he was so worked up like that. “Okay, I wanted to apologize,” he said, gently. Adam leaned back against the counter, watching him. “For snapping at you, and for being weird and distant and… not all here. Shit’s been… weird, to say the least, and I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in my own little thing that I just-” He trailed off, sighing and rubbing his neck. “I’m just sorry. For treating you like that. You deserve better than that, Adam.”

Adam didn’t say a thing for a moment, and tried to shrug off how he felt from it, before he _was_ speaking. “It’s okay,” he told him, and _God_ , it sounded sincere. He didn’t know he missed Adam this much. “I know things have been hard for you, and I’m sorry I tried to push you-”

“You didn’t,” Matt said quickly, shaking his head. “You didn’t, I promise Adam it’s just… The reason why I’ve been all weird isn’t what you think.”

“Then what is it?” Adam asked. Matt’s throat closed up. There it was; the anxiety of telling him. He wished Adam figured it out like Lawrence, or that he was so anxiety and panicked that he didn’t have time to stop himself like with Spoole. Adam was looking at him, expecting an answer, but Matt couldn’t say a word. He had to do this _twice_. Maybe-

“I can’t tell you yet. I need to tell Joel, too,” he told him, quickly. Adam’s eyes widened a tad. “I’ll tell you both, I promise. Are you busy Tuesday?”

Adam shook his head. “No, I’m free Tuesday.”

“Coffee shop at… three?”

“Sure,” Adam agreed.

Matt shifted, sighing softly. “Are we good now?”

Adam smiled at him, warmly, before chuckling and nodding. “Yeah, Matt, we’re good.”

He returned his smile, unable to keep it from his face, and nodded.

 

* * *

 

_ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: Sorry for being AWOL for the past week; stuff got busy at work._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: No problem. But hey, are you busy at the moment?_   
_  
_ _ >> _ **_Matt_** : _There’s something I kinda need to talk to you about._

_ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: No, I’m just at home._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Cool. I’ll just swing by in a bit?_

_ > _ **_I’m So Fucked_** _: Yeah. Sounds good? Is everything okay?_   
_  
_ _ >> _ **_Matt_** : _[unsent] Everything is so confusing. And I think you’re to blame?_

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Yeah. Everything’s okay._

 

* * *

 

Matt tried not to speed on his way to Bruce’s. His anxiety had kicked into hyperdrive the moment he got into the car, and he could feel his pulse through his hands with how tight he was gripping the steering wheel. Realistically, he knew this wouldn’t go as south as he thought it would. Hell, patching things up with Adam went smoother than he’d ever expect, but trying to be rational to himself while he was so clearly being irrational was nearly impossible. Bruce’s house came into view as he rounded the corner to it, and it didn’t do jack shit to help the storm in his chest and head, even as he parked and sat, in silence, going over the list of things he needed to talk about.

_First_ ; telling him he needed to spend less time with him sometimes because he couldn’t keep choosing him over his friends.

_Second_ ; telling him about telling Adam and Joel, and how he already told Lawrence and Spoole, and that they weren’t going to run around blabbing about it. Easy as pie.

_Third_ ; establishing some kind of label for their not-relationship. He didn’t want to keep introducing Bruce as his sugar daddy. And after Saturday, his brain had become a confusing, muddled mess anyway. A label would be nice.

Matt sucked in a shaky breath, before opening his door and getting out, taking his phone out to text Bruce a quick here, before he saw his front door open. His thumb hovered over the send key, staring at Bruce’s smiling face. “Oh,” he said quietly, before clearing his throat and tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“Oh to you, too,” Bruce joked, letting him into the house and chuckling. “It’s been a week. How are you?”

Matt almost stopped at the question ( _Bruce asked how he was?_ ), before coughing quietly. “I’m good,” he lied, probably not convincingly, considering how Bruce turned to look at him. “Okay, it’s been… kind of a thing, but that’s why I’m here to-” He went silent, staring at Bruce and frowning. “What the hell happened to your cheek?”

Bruce reached up, gingerly rubbing his fingers over the bruise smeared on his cheek, before grinning, toothily. Part of Matt didn’t buy how casual he looked, but he didn’t know where to start with arguing. “Oh, I had an accident while I was doing some stuff for work.”

“What, did someone sucker punch you in the face?” he asked, stepping closer to look at it.

“Something like that.”

The extra, unknown voice made Matt jumped. Bruce’s face shifted from something soft to recognition, before Matt spun on his heel to face where the voice had come from. The man standing before them was grinning lopsided, hands on his hips and his eyes focused on Matt, solely, and holy _God_ , were they blue. Matt’s heart leapt into his throat, panic rising in his chest, because, oh _fuck_ , were they caught? Every scenario about this blowing up in the news passed in his head all at once, and _oh fuck_. He went to turn back to Bruce, before the grin faded off the man’s face. “Whoa, okay, you look legitimately scared. I’m sorry,” he said quickly, taking a step forward that Matt, unsurprisingly, mirrored backwards, feeling his shoulders hit Bruce’s chest, and Bruce’s hands reach up to steady him on his arms. James raised his hands in defense. “Okay, okay, I won’t get closer. I’m James. James Willems. I work with Bruce. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“He’s uh-” He felt Bruce’s voice more than he heard it. “Kind of nervous…”

“James Willems?” Matt spoke quietly, the name finally clicking in his head. James Willems. From Cabra. _Oh_. “Oh, you own Cabra. With Bruce, I mean,” he said, before stepping away from Bruce, blushing and muttering a soft apology. “Sorry, I… I just thought maybe-”

James waved him off, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. You’re on edge because of the situation with Bruce, right? Don’t worry about me, because I’m awesome at minding my own business. I won’t tell a soul,” he said. Matt narrowed his eyes just a little, but the anxiety in his chest did fade a little; James knew about this? “But, hey, it’s nice to finally meet you. Bruce talks about you-”

“ _James_ -”

Matt felt his brain short circuit. Bruce _talked_ about him? Bruce talked about _him_. He had friends, obviously, and here was one of them in front of him, and Bruce talked about him to James? He heard James’ laughter, and Bruce move out from behind him, before he stopped staring blankly at the wall behind James, stuttering. “I’m-” he started, getting their attention. “Matt. Hi.”

James smiled at him, laughing softly and offering him his hand. “Nice to meet you Matt.” Matt returned his smile, shaking his hand and nodding a little. “Well. Sorry for scaring you, and Bruce, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? I’ll let myself out. You kids have fun!”

Bruce rolled his eyes as James left, the front door closing behind him as he walked out of the house, before he turned his attention back on Matt. “Sorry. So, that was James.”

“He’s… Nice,” Matt mumbled, looking back at Bruce, smiling a bit and eying the bruise again. “So you got sucker punched?”

“We are not talking about my injury,” Bruce said, smiling and leaning against the back of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, and Matt tried to keep himself from staring. “You needed to talk about something right? What’s on your mind?”

All the preparation Matt had done on the way over flew out the window. Oh God where did he begin? He stood there quietly for a moment, trying to find words, before he clenched his fists into the end of his hoodie sleeves. “I-I’ve been kinda. Being a dick.” The words make Bruce’s eyes go wide, and he decided he was really tired of people doing that to him. Maybe if he stopped keeping secrets they wouldn’t. “Not to you. To my friends. I… I maybe have been picking you over them more often than I should… And I just wanted to tell you that maybe if I can’t-”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bruce stopped him, moving off the couch a bit and waving his hands. “Hang on, Matt, wait. Are you about to apologize for not being able to see me much after this?”

“Maybe,” Matt choked, picking at his hoodie. Bruce gave him a look that made heat flare up in his gut and a chill go down his spine. “Yeah. Yeah I was.”

Bruce sighed. “You don’t have to apologize for that, you know. You’re allowed to have a social life outside of me. I won’t keep you from that,” he told him, resuming his position leaning against the couch from before. Matt just watched him as his brows furrowed. “Was that what you needed to talk about?”

He shook his head, quickly, before shuffling his feet a bit, still conscious of how expensive everything was in this house. “No, no that’s not it. Well. That’s not all.” He sighed, fidgeting a bit. “I… Well. Lawrence and Spoole, a couple of my friends know,” he told him. There was no immediately reaction. Bruce didn’t look upset though, so he continued. “Lawrence kinda… figured I was hiding something and cornered me. And I cornered myself and told Spoole.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, too neutral for Matt’s liking.

“They won’t tell anyone,” he said quickly. “They won’t even tell our other two friends. Which is why I’m here. Sorta. I need to tell them. Joel and Adam, my roommate. It’s kind of shitty that I’m hiding this from them. Especially Adam. He’s my best friend. But, I wanted to tell you, too, because… I don’t know, it’s not just me in this, I guess. I kinda have a plan to tell them Tuesday.”

Matt didn’t know _what_ he expected, but Bruce’s soft smile was not it. “That’s fine, Matt. I don’t think you’re the type to be a bad judge of character, and these are your best friends, right?” Matt nodded, silently. “Then I won’t stop you from telling them.”

“You’re being… way too easy about this,” Matt mumbled, and Bruce laughed. “No, really, you are.”

Bruce shook his head. “No, I’m being honest. It doesn’t bother me if you tell people,” he said, smiling. “It really doesn’t.”

Matt wondered, briefly, if there was a reason for that; most people in the public eye wouldn’t want _anyone_ to know about this. Hell, people who weren’t in the public eye wouldn’t want others to know about stuff like this. But Bruce was so relaxed. Why? Matt filed that away as something to ponder at a later date, before taking a breath. Time for the hardest part. “Okay. Okay, good to know. I have… one more thing to ask.”

“Shoot,” he said cheerily.

“What-” _are we_? was on the tip of his tongue, but he rerouted his sentence and landed on “-label do I use. For us. Calling you my sugar daddy is kind of creepy.”

The smile fell off Bruce’s face, and something that has Matt’s chest in flutters passed in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said softly, the tone edging on longing. It made Matt’s head scream. “What do you want to label us as?”

_Something_ , was what jumped to his head at first, but he brushed it back, not sure entirely where it came from, and shook his head. “I don’t know either,” he said. The air around them is stiff, and uncomfortable, and the way Bruce is looking at him makes him feel so small, but so important, and he doesn’t know what’s going on but-

Bruce stood up again, and Matt scrambled back half a step to give him room, hands balling the edges of his hoodie sleeves between his fingers, heart pounding hard against his ribs. _What was happening_. “Well, you can use whatever label, then,” he told him, voice soft and gentle and Matt felt like he was melting. “I won’t try to tell you what to use, Matt.” He looked over at him, and they spent a moment just staring at each other, before Bruce looked away, cheeks dusted pink. _What_. “Anyway, um, while you’re here…” he walked past him to the entryway, and Matt turned, following him with his eyes and trying to calm himself down from the near heart attack he was experiencing. Bruce picked up an envelope from the table in the hallway, before walking back, handing it to him. “I thought it’d be kind of like prying to ask how much… so… for whatever you need it for.”

Matt took the envelope, immediately noting how _heavy_ it felt, and went to open it. He thought better of it and nodded instead, looking at Bruce. “Okay,” he said softly. “Um. Thank you.”

“No need for thanks,” Bruce said, his hands finding his pockets.

Matt went to say something, anything, about how fucking _weird_ he was feeling at the moment, but his phone went off in his pocket and he took it out. From Adam. “Um. That’s my roommate. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

Matt nodded and headed out the front door, trying to ignore the way his pulse picked up when he felt Bruce follow him, all but running out to his car, stuffing the envelope into his hoodie pocket as he walked. He got in and started it, seeing Bruce’s front door close as he did, before he let out a shuddering breath and rested a hand over his chest.

Oh he was _so fucked_.

 

* * *

 

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Joel. Are you busy Tuesday?_

_ > _ **_Joel_** _: Nope! Want to do the coffee date then?_

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Yeah. At 3PM. Plus Adam, Lawrence and Spoole._

_ > _ **_Joel_** _: … Are we having an intervention or something?_

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: No I just. It’s hard to explain over text. I can do it then._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: Promise._

_ > _ **_Joel_** _: Alright, then. Coffee shop at 3PM. Plus three._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: [unsent] I just hope you don’t kill me._

 

* * *

 

Matt got home and felt like everything was falling back into place, but royally fucked up again. His brain was still a cloud from all the different emotions it had shifted through in front of Bruce, but he couldn’t help but feel like everything was slowly becoming okay again when Adam waved at him from the couch where his face was buried in his laptop. He had a school project opened on the screen, glasses on his face. Must be serious. Matt hummed a hello and slipped out of his shoes, before taking the envelope out of his hoodie pocket and opening it, finally.

Inside were a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills. He couldn’t even tell how many. Matt almost choked on the quick, sharp inhale he did, before pulling out the little note Bruce left inside. _‘Here, for bills! Keep the change and do something nice for yourself! - Bruce!’_ Matt’s hands shook a little, thumbing through the bills, feeling his heart rate pick up. Holy _fuck_ , how much was this? He tightened his hold on the envelope a little, hearing Adam shift on the couch and- oh God, for the first time in a while he could pay for his half of the bills. “God, this project is kicking my ass,” Adam mumbled, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes.

“Sounds like it,” Matt said, sorta strained. He quickly stuffed the money back into his hoodie pocket, keeping his hands in there counting the bills the best he could. Adam hummed in response. “Hey. Uh. How much would my half of the bills be this month?”

Adam looked back at him and made a face. “I don’t know… Fifteen hundred or so? Why?”

Matt had just gotten to fifteen and it felt like half of what was there. Oh God, how much did Bruce give him? He subtly pulled the bills from the envelope, then stepped forward, handing Adam the money and watching his eyes go wide. “I…”

“Holy fucking shit Matt,” he said, moving his laptop off his lap and onto the coffee table, flipping through the bills. “Where did you-”

“Tuesday,” Matt choked out. “It’s… One of those things I’ll explain Tuesday.”

Adam looked at him, eyes searching his face for any sign of there _maybe_ being trouble, before he nodded, a little stiffly. “Okay. Just… This wasn’t through something illegal right?”

“No. I promise.”

He seemed to relax. He nodded, again, before folding the money up and slipping it into his pocket. “Alright. Um… Thanks, then.”

Matt smiled a bit in return, watching Adam go back to his project, feeling his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Probably Bruce, checking to see if he got home okay. He started back toward his room, taking his phone out and unlocking it to check his text, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

_ > _ **_Joel_** _: You’ve been asking about Cabra a lot this week, thought you’d might want to hear about this._

_ > _ **_Joel_** _: http://pepper.com/2016-09-01-bruce-greene-new-girlfriend_

Oh God.

He hurriedly made his way to his room, shutting his door behind him and immediately going to his bed, grabbing his laptop and opening it. He typed the URL into his browser address bar, trying to fight the urge to start chewing on his nails as it loaded. It was some gaudy pink website that almost padded the nerves he was feeling, before the picture popped up and- oh, Matt’s heart bottomed. It was Bruce with some pretty redhead wearing a dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination, Bruce’s arm around her while she leaned into his side. Bruce looked good, too, smiling at her, his cheek unbruised. He felt every ounce of warmth he felt earlier fade as he scrolled down to the actual article.

_“Looks like Bruce Greene is no longer the West Coast’s most eligible bachelor anymore! Spotted Wednesday night leaving Trois Mec, the 34 year old businessman had the 30 year old actress Melanie Vasquez at his hip. The two had a brief fling back in 2014, but looks like they might be back on it- and each other! You might remember seeing Melanie’s name a while back in another story-”_

Matt closed the window. He sat there, unmoving, silent and rolling the words over in his head. Bruce had a girlfriend. He _very clearly_ had a girlfriend and he saw her in the past week. He saw her after Matt had been at Bruce’s and Bruce had leaned down like he wanted- And Bruce had been so _nice_ , and the way he looked at him was like he mattered but, yeah, he was the twenty-one year old that stammered and stuttered through every sentence in front of him and was _thirteen years younger_ , why did he ever get his hopes up? He felt his anxiety starting to pick up, so he shut his laptop and tried to not throw it back onto his desk. He laid down in bed and pulled the blankets up over himself tight, ignoring how his chest felt like it was breaking in two.

 

* * *

 

_[_ **_I’m So Fucked_ ** _] changed to [_ **_I Don’t Want To Talk To You_ ** _]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special shout outs to my friend apollo for helping me smooth out the part with james, peter for helping me figure out what acceptable apartment costs are (and for the stack of hundreds dimensions?), lee and bailey for naming melanie, the gossip site, and figuring out which restaurant to use, basically all of the fh friends and rtace discord chats for listening to me screaming about this for like a week, and to my friend lucy for commissioning this (i would have done this for free??? lucy youre a Saint)
> 
> [[follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)] [[apollo](http://shiphaus.co.vu/)] [[peter](http://heyheyroosterteeth.tumblr.com/)] [[lee](http://shiphoose.tumblr.com/)] [[bailey](http://jonrisingers-fluffy-hair.tumblr.com/)] [[lucy](http://lillyluuna.tumblr.com/)]  
> [[my beta; amber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WifeOfSera)]  
> [[cross post on tumblr](http://seanspooles.co.vu/post/147853057315/2-sugar-cubes-no-cream-5)]


	6. you keep my heart palpitating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Song for the Chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_4KBfWjbpA)]

Matt didn’t even want to _think_ about Bruce Greene after Saturday night, but he had promised himself that he would tell Adam and Joel, and they at least deserved to know even if Matt was having an internal battle with himself and whatever morals conflicted a situation like this. Bruce had a _girlfriend_ , and there he had been, taking him out for coffee, to shop, inviting him over, giving him money, leaning down like- He ran his hand through his hair to stop that train of thought, letting out a loud, annoyed sigh. It wasn’t his fault, whatever Bruce was hiding from him. He couldn’t _possibly_ be blamed for not knowing Bruce was taken, but part of him wondered why it mattered so much to him in the first place; he wasn’t sleeping with Bruce, wasn’t dating him. Hell, he could count on one hand all the times they had even had the smallest amount of physical contact. Why was he so worked up over this? And why did he feel the way he did Saturday anyway; where it felt like his chest was going to cave in, like he couldn’t get enough air, and had the worst possible tunnel vision for Bruce. The feeling didn’t fade when he got texts on Sunday from Bruce, that he dismissed before he turned his phone over. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to label it right now.

Three o’clock Tuesday afternoon crawled up on him without him really realizing it until he was sat in the coffee shop with Adam, waiting for the others to show up. Lawrence was first, naturally, eyes shining knowingly at him as he took a seat and struck up a conversation with Adam, then Spoole wandered in after, smiling a bit at Matt and sitting next to him. Joel was last, and probably, gave Matt more of a reason to panic when he saw him; he didn’t know how Joel would take the news. He followed Cabra as a company more closely than any of them, and looked up to Bruce for more reasons than Matt would care to list off. Adam would take it like he took most other things; raised eyebrows and a soft “oh”. He didn’t know how Joel would react. It made him feel sick.

“Hello, boys,” Joel chimed as he sat at the table between Spoole and Lawrence, setting his order down and smiling at them. Adam and Lawrence managed polite hellos, and Spoole squeaked out a hi around his straw, before Joel looked straight at him. Matt broke out in a cold sweat. “So, Matthew, why are we here today?”

Matt felt everyone’s eyes on him at once; Spoole and Lawrence looked worried and intense, respectively, while Adam looked confused and Joel looked patient, and oh, God, why did he agree to this? Why did he agree to invite Lawrence and Spoole, too? He took a sip of his tea, avoiding everyone’s gazes, before he cleared his throat quietly. “I’m… Well… He- I mean,” he stuttered, sighing and running a hand down his face. There was no easy way to say this, was there? Other than just putting it out there, at least. So much for letting them down sort of gently, and making himself panic a little less. “Bruce Greene is my sugar daddy.”

The silence that surrounded him was unbearable. He braved a glance at Adam, saw him, predictably, with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead and his mouth slightly open, before his lips moved into a shape of an “oh”, saying it silently to himself. Something akin to realization flashed across his face, and no doubt the gears in his brain were starting to turn, piecing everything together. But when Matt turned to look at Joel-

“He’s your _what_!”

Joel’s voice was sudden and harsh, his hands slamming down on the table, making their drink orders shake. The loud outburst had people at the tables next to them turn, annoyance or concern on their faces, and even the baristas behind the counter looked over. Spoole waved his hands at them while Lawrence spoke across to Joel to get him to quiet down, but Joel’s eyes were like fire on Matt. Matt swallowed down the fear in his throat. “You’re _what_ ,” Joel said, his tone whispered and sharp.

“M-My sugar daddy,” Matt repeated, just as quietly, less to match Joel’s voice, and more to keep the people around them from turning their attention on them again. “He, you know, gives me money, buys me th-”

“I know what a sugar daddy is, Matt,” Joel interrupted. His hands move off the table top and disappear under, before they come back. Matt can see the tension in his shoulders fade, a little. Hopefully that was the worst of it. “How did- _How_?”

Matt fidgeted. Spoole glanced at him. “I got drunk at a bar like a month ago-” Had it really been a _month_? “-and I just rambled about my problems to him. You know, getting fired, dropping out. But I didn’t know it was him, and apparently I gave him my number, so he texted me and offered it to me, and we met up for coffee and now,” he said, motioning to the table. “We’re here.”

A silence settled over them again, before Joel dropped his head, running a hand over his hair. “I can’t believe my best friend is fucking Bruce Greene-”

“I’m not-” he started to say, loudly, before groaning quietly and dropping his voice. “Joel, I’m not- He didn’t want sex. He almost panicked when I brought it up.”

“A sugar daddy that doesn’t want sex,” Joel mumbled. “Well. Thank god I don’t have to wring your neck about it.”

Matt narrowed his eyes, before Adam spoke up, finally. “So… The new clothes, and the nice car that picked you up, and the money Saturday… That’s where you got all that? From Bruce?” he asked. Matt nodded, not sure what else to say, and saw Adam visibly deflate, putting his hands over his face. “Oh thank god…”

He was going to open his mouth to comment, before Joel jumped back in. “Is that why you’ve been so interested in Cabra recently?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink with an eye roll when Matt nodded. “It’s like you’re his worried boyfriend.” The face he made must have been something worth backtracking, because he saw the way Joel’s eyes shifted and he lowered his drink, frowning. “I’m sorry Matt-”

“Don’t be,” he said quickly. Now Spoole and Lawrence were looking at him, waiting for an answer, or an explanation; did they see whatever expression he made, too? “He’s not my boyfriend. And I’m not his. He’s got a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend?” Spoole squeaked, right as Joel quickly said, “Matt, you know those gossip sites are bullshit, right?”

“There’s no denying the pictures, Joel. Besides, it’s his business, not mine,” Matt mumbled, taking a drink of his tea, and avoiding their eyes only to land on Lawrence’s.

Lawrence gave him a quick once over, before sitting back and sipping his coffee. “Someone sounds jealous.”

The words caused a quick jolt of fire in his stomach, that made his cheeks feel hot and he opened his mouth to argue, before Adam spoke. “He’s right- I mean. You wouldn’t care if you didn’t, you know?” he asked, looking at Matt. “Do… You care about Bruce?”

Matt thought about it, hard, in a way he hadn’t before. He thought about the way touches made his skin tingle, the way his smiles lit up the room, how kind he was, how his heart pounded, how he almost craved his presence in anyway he could get it. Thinking about it properly made his brain felt muddled and fuzzy though, just keeping him from making a realization. It was like there was some kind of film over his thoughts, preventing him from really seeing the situation clearly and- Oh. It finally all clicked together in his head and he tightened his hand on his tea, mouth falling open. Oh no. _Oh no_.

“Oh fuck.”

 

* * *

 

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: Hey. Since you left early, Spoole and I gave Adam and Joel the rundown about not telling anyone._

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: Their lips are sealed._

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: Also, Joel’s not mad at you. And neither is Adam._

_ > _ **_Lawrence_** _: Thanks for telling them. Sincerely._

 

* * *

 

Matt spent the entirety of Wednesday in bed. His brain felt like a trainwreck and his chest didn’t fare much better, and as far as he was concerned, the less he had to get up and move around, the better. He was grateful Joel and Adam took it as well as they did (although Joel’s reaction was up in the air), but now he had a totally new set of worries to worry about. It was like taking care of one thing just freed up the space for a totally new thing to come along and fuck him over. Adam’s words were still floating around in his head - _“Do you care about Bruce?”_ \- and he knew how to answer the question, really, he did. It was the reasoning behind it, the realization he made at the coffee shop, that he didn’t know how to put into something more coherent than a mumbled “oh fuck”. Did he even want to put a name to this? That’d make it real, and tangible, and then Matt would have to choke it down every time he saw Bruce, because _Bruce had a girlfriend_ , and Matt was twenty-one and a goddamn mess.

Matt was halfway through a new round of thoughts fit to make him internally scream for months when his phone buzzed on the bed. He rolled over, fishing it out from the covers, already prepared to text whoever it was back and tell them to leave him to his self-deprecation, when his entire being froze at the name on the screen.

_Bruce_.

He almost scrambled to open the text, heart pounding in his ears as he did.

_ > _ **_I Don’t Want To Talk To You_** _: Hey. I know you were planning on telling your friends about the situation yesterday. How’d it go?_

Matt gripped his phone. He couldn’t find it in him to ignore him _now_ , of all times. But he didn’t want to talk to Bruce, didn’t want to fuel the beast in his chest, and _God_ , he really needed to stop thinking about how Bruce remembered that he was telling his friends. Bruce _remembered_ and was checking up on him now. He swallowed, thickly, painfully, around the lump of stubborn pride in his throat, before he quickly changed Bruce’s name and typed out a response.

_[ **I Don’t Want To Talk To You**_ _] changed to [_ **_???_ ** _]_

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: It went fine._

Fuck, _fuck_ , what if that was too cool? Matt groaned and rubbed his face, before his phone buzzed in his hand and he looked at the screen.

_ > _ **_???_** _: That’s good. Is everything alright?_

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: I don’t know. Honestly._

That sounded so dramatic, but, really, he didn’t. Everything felt super confusing again, and now that he was talking to Bruce again, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted his attention, wanted his jokes and kind words, and- God, dammit, Matt, he had a _girlfriend_. Matt was about to just lock his phone, roll over and ignore the texts, but he stopped himself when he got another one, and, yeah, it solidified how fucking _weak_ he was.

_ > _ **_???_** _: Can I come pick you up? Or would you rather be with friends._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: [unsent] You are a friend._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: [unsent] I want to see you, please._

_ >> _ **_Matt_** _: No, you can. I’ll be ready in ten._

Matt pulled himself from his bed for the first time all day, wandering out to the bathroom and splashing water on his face to wake himself up a bit. He did his best to tame his hair, sorta, then threw on a hoodie, before gathering his wallet, keys and phone. Adam was in the living room when he made his way out there, looking up from his laptop. “Going out?” he asked, eying him up and down.

“Yeah, with Bruce,” Matt mumbled, and _wow_ , that felt weird to say. He almost wanted to backtrack, but Adam just hummed and looked back to whatever he was doing, fingers typing away at the keys as Matt’s phone vibrated in his hand.

_>_ **_???_** _: Here._

Oh. Good. Here he went.

He said his goodbyes to Adam and headed out, locking the door up behind him and restraining himself the best he could from rushing down to Bruce’s car. It was quiet outside, sun already set, few cars on the streets, crickets chirping in the grass. He tightened his hands in his hoodie’s sleeves and held his ground, metaphorically, when he finally saw Bruce. The scuff wasn’t on the front bumper anymore, he noticed - it had been covered up by a new coat of glossy black paint. Guess Bruce finally got around to that. He bit his lip and tried to put on the best brave face he could internally, going over and getting in, making himself as comfortable as he could in the expensive leather. Bruce was the first one to speak, softly, probably too quietly considering the small space. “Hey.”

Matt stole a glance at him. The bruise on his cheek wasn’t as intense as it was Saturday, but he looked about the same. Although now there was an exhaustion in his eyes that wasn’t present before, and it made Matt’s chest lurch. “Hey,” he said back, smiling a bit at him.

“I… Didn’t really have a good idea of where to go. So, we can just drive?” Bruce suggested, and Matt nodded, quietly. Other people not being near him would definitely be helpful. But then he would be in a tiny car interior with Bruce for the entire duration of the conversation he _needed_ to have and- “So. What’s bothering you?”

The car moved away from the curb of his apartment and Matt shifted a bit. “A lot,” he said, quietly, honestly. “A lot is bothering me.”

“Did things not go well with your friends?”

“No, they did, it’s just-” He stopped himself and let out a heavy sigh. He saw Bruce give him a look out of the corner of his eyes. Outside, the city passed by in a blur. “You have a girlfriend?”

There’s a squeak of hands on the steering wheel. “What?” Bruce asked, sounding… confused? Why would he sound confused? “A girlfriend where did you get that idea?”

Matt felt something rush over him. “Pepper? That celebrity news site-”

Bruce groaned, moving a hand to run over his hair. “Oh God, Matt, don’t tell me you believed it,” he said. Matt went silent, stunned almost. “Pepper has been on my ass for years. Mine and Melanie’s. We’re not dating. We dated for a month two years ago and broke up, and now everyone grasps at straws.”

“You’re not dating anyone?”

“No, I’m not,” Bruce said, and it sounded so matter-of-fact that Matt felt so stupid getting so worked up about this in the first place. He took his information from a _gossip site_ without any other fact checking why did he get so irrational so quick? “I’m not… really interested in anyone right now.” _That_ sounded forced, but Matt wasn’t going to press it because… Bruce was _single_. A spark ignited in his chest. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. Dating would… really make things complicated.”

Matt nodded, wordlessly, relaxing back against the leather seat. He felt his heart pick up, threatening to break through his chest, stomach flipping in that way that made him feel sick. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“You were worried about this?” Bruce asked him, turning to look at him briefly; it was a red light, Matt noticed. “About Melanie and I?”

He felt his face go hot. Oh _no_. “I-I just. I saw it and-” he stuttered, sitting up straight again. There was the deafening pounding in his ears again, fingers shaking around the handfuls of sleeves he had. Bruce was still looking at him, eyes gentle and face neutral, and Matt wanted to scream he was in _so fucking deep_ _._ “I was just curious, you know you, obviously, don’t owe me any explanations I mean-”

“Matt.”

Bruce’s voice was soft, and he was looking right at him, now, and Matt felt his heart give one, two, three, good thumps before it skipped a beat and warmth pooled in his gut. They were so close. _So close_ , and Matt was so aware of it, and if he wanted to play with the risks and consequences, he could just lean over- “You can be curious,” Bruce said, still so gently, so gentle is made Matt’s arms break out in goosebumps under the sleeves of his hoodie, made him wonder what it’d be like to hear that all the time. “I don’t mind. I ask about you. You can ask about me.”

“But-” Matt started to argue, and found his voice was more caught than he thought it’d be. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and sighed. “But I’m just… Me. I’m not-”

There was a honk behind them, and Bruce jumped, turning back to the road and driving again, hands tight on the steering wheel. Matt tried to calm the way his heart felt like it was going to break his ribs, and how he could feel the heat on the tips of his ears. He shifted in his seat, watching out the window as Bruce drove. Matt _couldn’t_ ignore it if it was this bad. He was so fucked. The car passed by building after building, before they were back at his apartment, and Bruce pulled up, parking. “Before you go, Matt.”

Matt turned to face Bruce again, ignoring the way his pulse picked up again, watching him. “Yeah?”

“The reason why… I wouldn’t mind if you asked questions is because…” Bruce trailed off and Matt felt himself involuntarily grip the door handle. “You don’t want to be around me because I’m famous. You didn’t know about any of this when you met me. It’s kind of hard to find people like that, you know?” He laughed, softly, leaning back in his chair a bit. He sounded soft and vulnerable. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t mind the prying questions because you’re sincere, Matt. And you’re genuinely a nice person to be around.”

Matt couldn’t stop the _thump-thump-thump_ so loud in his ears it made Bruce sound far away and the way his world blew past him as he made an even bigger realization than he did at the coffee shop yesterday. His heart jumped into his throat and he tightened his hands around the handle again. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Bruce said, smiling at him. “I won’t keep you longer. I’ll see you around, okay?”

Matt nodded, stiffly, then got out, waving robotically at Bruce, before he headed up to his apartment, let himself into the quiet interior, closing and locking behind him. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he leaned back against the front door and hung his head, hiding his face with his hands, his heart racing and hands still shaking, knees weak and brain swirling with every possible fantasy he could come up with and then some and, oh, _God_ _._

Matt Peake was in love with Bruce Greene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to lucy for commissioning this again!! 
> 
> [[follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)] [[lucy](http://lillyluuna.tumblr.com/)]  
> [[my beta, amber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WifeOfSera)]  
> [[cross post on tumblr](http://seanspooles.co.vu/post/148113834815/2-sugar-cubes-no-cream-6)]

**Author's Note:**

> um so like. look. my best friend ej came to visit one weekend and it was like. 4 am. and we were talking about greake and she was like "sugar daddy bruce" and it just. it was a fucking avalanche okay. and now you get this beautiful work of art thats gonna be my magnum opus im pretty sure so just. buckle the fUCK UP.  
> [follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu/)  
> [cross post on tumblr](http://seanspooles.co.vu/post/142442398120/2-sugar-cubes-no-cream-1)


End file.
